


Aide and Abet

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21480382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Lona just wants her bull-headed Senator to relax, but when a nice breakfast out turns dangerous, it reveals far more than either of them could have guessed.
Relationships: Original Stressed-Out Prequel Senator/Original Loyal Aide Trying to get Them To Relax
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Aide and Abet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EffieAgo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieAgo/gifts).

> Info on Tholothians is contradictory. Some say they wear headdresses, others say it's part of their anatomy. I decided the latter was more interesting.   
(This is a Treat fill)

When Lona Keeg arrived at the offices of the Tholothian Senator Myrin Almasi, it was to see a light already on in the Senator’s study. She hissed in frustration, allowing herself a brief curse in Durese before she tapped on the door and barged in.

“Senator, we’ve talked about this!”

Myrin lifted her head from her hands, guilt radiating off of her as she met Lona’s frown.

“Oh, Lona! You’re here early!” She smiled, trying to move the half-eaten take-away container behind the potted fern at the corner of her desk.

“And you’re still here, aren’t you?” Sighing, Lona moved to take the container of prunchti noodles and spiced veg from its hiding spot. “When was the last time you went home?”

“I went home,” Myrin said. “I simply forgot to take that with me last night.”

Lona arched a brow ridge at her and walked over to the couch, lifting up a corner of the blanket draped across it and dislodging the pillow.

Myrin sighed. “Okay, so maybe I went home and then came back,” she admitted. “But I know the evidence has to be here! I just need to find it!” 

She gestured at the pile of datapads stacked haphazardly on her desk. Lona didn’t need to see their contents to know what they contained: all the bills, motions, briefs, and sanctions to come out of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor since his rise to power.

Shaking her head, she went over to put the noodles in the mini-fridge before she began to tidy up the datapads.

“I appreciate your dedication, Myrin,” she said, “but you do need to take a break now and then. You can’t manifest answers just by wishing really hard.”

“Are you sure?” Myrin’s eyes glinted. “I do know that there was a Jedi Master somewhere among my ancestors. There’s always a chance the Force could respond to my needs.”

Lona spun her hands in small circles. Duros can’t roll their eyes, but they’d found another way to express that oh-so-useful gesture.

“The Force could also make sure my favorite cocoa was always in stock, but it doesn’t,” she said. “Come on, we’re going to have breakfast at Pop’s Place, and then you’re taking a mandatory mental health day.”

“Lona, no.” Myrin sagged in her chair. “I’ll take tomorrow off, I promise, but-”

“A wise lady once told me not to make promises I had no intention of keeping.”

“Ouch.” Myrin wrinkled her nose. “Throwing my own words back at me, it must be worse than I thought.”

Lona reached out, resting a hand on the Senator’s shoulder. Warmth radiated into her fingers through the armorweave jacket, but there was also the faintest trace of a tremble, a sure sign that the Senator had once again overtaxed herself. Even so, she looked regal as she smiled up at Lona.

It was such a soft moment. She wondered what would happen if she lifted her hand, stroking her long blue fingers against that dark, almost shimmering skin. Sometimes she was convinced that Myrin would answer in kind, and if she was really honest with herself, that was one of the reasons she didn’t try.

“Let’s go, Senator.” She smiled, stepping back and allowing her hand to drop to her side. The moment had passed.

Myrin stood, groaning as she stretched.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “A little time to clear my head might make it easier to navigate this linguistic hall of mirrors.”

Lona commed for an aircar to be brought around while the Senator put herself to rights and gathered her belongings. No guards today, since it was an informal outing and, much to Lona’s relief, Myrin wasn’t a high-profile target. That distinction went to Senators like Naboo and Alderaan, and she didn’t envy their staffers at all. If she and Myrin wanted to dine out, they could just go; no armed guards, no assassins hunting them down, and sometimes not even any paparazzi. 

The ride to Pop’s Place was uneventful. Myrin’s eyes took on the half-glassed look they often did when she was tired or distracted. Lona sent a note to the staff informing them that the Senator was taking a day of rest and that they should plan accordingly. She also commed ahead to make sure there’d be a table open for them at Pop’s Place. The cafe was small and off the main thoroughfares, but also popular with the morning crowd, so she was glad when the droid answering said there was still room for them.

Myrin began to perk up a bit more once she had some espcaf in her and had ordered some waffles, but under the filtered light of the terrace, Lona got a better look at her and didn’t like what she saw.

The scales atop her head had taken on a waxy look and the fuzzy tendrils growing from the back of the skull, known as  _ k’pah isi, _ had lost their luster. Her skin, too, looked overly dry; a hazard when one spent too much time in controlled circulation systems like the Rotunda.

As a Chief of Staff, the Senator’s lack of self-care was frustrating, but as a friend, it was downright worrying. She supported the goals that the Delegation of 2000 were trying to achieve; heck, she’d helped with some of the research herself, but there were limits on how far she was willing to go and she wished she could impose them on Myrin as well.

Their waiter, Tug, bumped against Lona as xe was serving, and in the process handed off a data crystal. She pocketed it while Myrin poured an unhealthy amount of syrup on her waffles. The little squib could be over-gregarious sometimes, but in addition to being a waiter, xe was an expert slicer, and she’d struck a deal with xem for information regarding the Supreme Chancellor’s accounts. In exchange, she’d been able to offload some of the more esoteric “gifts” received by the Tholothian Senator’s office by various dignitaries and grateful patrons. 

Lona had no idea why anyone would want a velvet painting of anoobas playing sabacc, or a jogan fruit tart encased in glassine, but Tug had been thrilled to trade a little research for items that otherwise were just cluttering up the storage vault.

“I hate to admit it, but once again, you were right.” Myrin smiled, shaking her head. “I feel better al- LOOK OUT!”

That was all the warning she had before Myrin lunged out of her chair, grabbing Lona’s arm and dragging them both to the ground. Something nearby shattered, and she heard screams as patrons and waitstaff scattered.

Another shot charred the plascrete floor nearby, and then Myrin was dragging her upright and they were both racing for the relative safety inside Pop’s Place.

_ A sniper? Here? _ For a paranoid moment, Lona was convinced that somehow someone had found out about the deal she’d worked with Tug, but that didn’t make any sense at all. If the Coruscant Guard after her, Captain Fox would want her taken alive. But Myrin didn’t seem a likely target either, unless…

“We have to get you to safety!” Lona had to shout to be heard over the screams and wailing of the people crowded into the small cafe.

Myrin stared at her, purple eyes showing white around the edges. She still had a deathgrip on Lona’s hand, not that Lona was about to complain.

Tug appeared amid the mass of people and started tugging on Lona’s pantsleg. “This way! This way!”

She followed him, pulling Myrin along with her as Tug led them through the crowd, into a kitchen full of confused chefs, and over to a hatch in the floor.

“Emergency route!” Xe said. “Get going, fast!”

There was a ladder leading down to what must have been a storage room. Myrin went first, despite her protests.

“That chromium-plated toilet seat you wanted?” Lona smiled at xem, beginning her descent. “If we make it out of here alive, it’s yours.”

Tug’s answering grin was full of sharp teeth. “Excellent trade!” Xe said. “Now, go stop the war!”

Darkness closed in as he resealed the hatchway. She was halfway down the ladder before she thought to wonder what he’d meant by that. She paused to pat her pocket and almost fell when something touched her leg. She let out a startled  _ heek. _

“It’s just me,” Myrin whispered. “You’re almost there.”

A dim glow appeared, bathing the Senator’s face in soft radiance. A datapad. Of course. Lona managed the last few rungs down to solid ground.

“There’s a door over here,” Myrin said, placing a hand between Lona’s shoulders to lead her. “I wasn’t sure if it was safe to open.”

The sounds above were muffled, now, but if there’d been any more blaster shots, Lona couldn’t hear them. What she could hear was a mass of sirens approaching. Maybe the assassin had already fled. She wished she could believe that.

“It might be better to just wait here,” she said, stress giving her voice an extra buzz. “The police are on their way. We don’t want to tip off any, uh, hostile parties? Until they’re here.” 

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Myrin said. “Why me? Why now?”

Her hand, still on Lona’d back, began to rub small circles. It was embarrassing how much that helped to settle her and kick her brain back into gear.

“I didn’t tell anyone where we were going,” she said, puzzling it out. “I told the staff you were taking a day off. I called to make a reservation. And… I called for the aircar.”

The aircar service would have filed a flight plan. By law, those plans were heavily guarded, but an expert slicer could probably access them. “Or someone in the Senate,” she murmured.

Myrin’s hand paused. “You think another senator is behind this?” 

“What? No!” Lona could feel herself flush with embarrassment. “No, that’s ridiculous. And paranoid. It- it has to be something else…”

Their flight plan would have passed across the Supreme Chancellor’s desk. Not that he ever bothered to pay attention to minor details like that. And even if he did, why would he care?

Tug’s words came to mind again.  _ Go stop the war. _ The Delegation had been looking for evidence to unseat Palpatine, but that didn’t mean the man was a sociopath. He hand drifted to her pocket again.

“What did Tug give you?”

Before she could ask how she’d known, something slammed into the door, startling them both. Lona reached out, grabbing what felt like a bottle of wine off a nearby rack just as blaster fire erupted outside. The door, which had never been meant to withstand such an assault, was blown open, revealing a backlit figure brandishing two blaster rifles.

“DEATH TO THE ELITE!” 

The figure started to lift his weapons. Lona flung her bottle, hitting him in the face and making him stagger back. He was Tholothian. The  _ k’pah isi  _ were unmistakable.

Before he could recover, Myrin was stepping forward, brandishing a bottle of her own. She swung it like a bat, shattering it in his face and knocking him flat on the ground. Blue wine pooled around him like blood. Lona’s own bottle had shattered at his feet. Glass glittered everywhere. She clung to Myrin, who clung right back. Death to the elite? What in the stars was going on?

  
  


The police showed up almost on the heels of the would-be killer, and they likely would have been detained for hours if Captain Fox himself hadn’t shown up, citing regulations and demanding they be returned to the Rotunda. The policewoman in charge, a sharp-faced nautolan whose anger pulsed along the spots on her face, insisted on taking their statements before they left. Judging by the comments exchanged with Fox, the two knew each other and were not on friendly terms.

Fox was the one who informed them that they weren’t the only ones who’d either been attacked or had “accidents” over the past few weeks. The Senator for the Seswenna Sector had been killed in an aircar collision. The Ithorian Senator had been savaged by an apparent stalker. And there were rumors of some taking an extended leave of absence or simply not showing up for meetings. Fox was getting frustrated by the apparent randomness of it, which was making his job harder.

Lona and Myrin exchanged a look. The people Fox had mentioned were all members of the Delegation of 2000. There was no way it was a coincidence, even if their attacker  _ appeared _ to be part of a group of Tholothian radicals bent on bringing down the aristocrats. Like House Almasi.

Was Fox trying to ask for help? Warning them off? Threatening them? Lona had flirted with him a few times, but she didn’t know him well enough to know his loyalties, beyond “the Republic.” For all she knew, he was deep in Palpatine’s pockets, so she didn’t mention the Delegation, and neither did Myrin.

They made it back to the Rotunda without further incident and Fox stationed two guards outside their offices, “just in case.”

“Keeping assassins out, or keeping us in?” Myrin murmured, once they were in the safety of her inner study.

Lona shrugged. “Maybe a bit of both? Here.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the data crystal that Tug had given her. “I asked Tug to go through some of the information you’ve been trying to parse. All public record,” she clarified before Myrin could object. “I just thought maybe xe’d be able to find a different angle on it.”

“And of course xe isn’t limited by legal concerns.” 

Myrin’s fingers brushed against her palm as she picked up the crystal. Lona tried to suppress the little shiver that went through her. This day needed to be over before she did something unforgivable. And she could only imagine how much more exhausted Myrin must be. As an attempt to get the Senator to relax, she’d failed miserably and made things even worse.

“Let’s see what xe’s found.” 

Myrin reached into her desk and pulled out a battered old datapad, one that Lona knew wasn’t connected to the Senate’s network. The screen flickered to life as it powered on and then whirred as the crystal was inserted.

Lona leaned in close to read over Myrin’s shoulder.

It was a lot to go through, but Tug had summed it up in the opening paragraph.

“I don’t… that can’t be right.” Myrin shook her head, some of her  _ k’pah isi  _ brushing against Lona’s cheek. 

She barely noticed, staring at the words on the screen. If even part of it was true, it would change everything. Had Tug gotten xir wires crossed, somewhere?

Myrin began paging through the rest of the document, which went back to the beginning to trace how xe’d arrived at xir conclusion.

“This is, this is too much.” Lona shook her head. “We can’t possibly go over all this alone. We’d need a whole team.” She hesitated. “But who can we trust?”

Myrin turned her head to look at her, the smile growing on her face like a sunrise.

“I know just the people for the job,” she said.

Members of the Delegation, no doubt. But they’d need more than that. Lawyers. Accountants. They might even need to bring a Jedi in to consult. Which, she realized, might not be as tricky as she thought. There’d been an incident two seasons back that had her crossing paths with a young nautolan Knight on a mission. If she could find that info again she was sure the Knight would be interested in helping.

“I might know someone, too,” she said, thoughts whirling. 

Myrin grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you know what this means?”

“Treason?” Lona shook her head. The word seemed too small for a man who, if the numbers checked out, may have had a hand in the creation of the clone army and thus the start of the entire war.

How had no one thought to look before? Or why hadn’t anyone found anything if they had? Tug was a good slicer, but xe wasn’t  _ that _ good. And if xe really had found something, xe was going to need just as much protection as the rest of them.

“Treason, yes,” Myrin said, interrupting her thoughts. “But it also means we were right! You did it,  _ obih!”  _

Lona felt herself pulled into a crushing hug. Warmth suffused her and she felt dizzy with the closeness.

“I could kiss you right now.” Myrin gave her an extra squeeze.

“Why don’t you?” 

She didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud until Myrin was cupping her face in her hands, the datapad pressing into her cheek.

“May I?”

Lona felt her throat close. With those beautiful purple eyes staring into her, words seemed impossible. She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.

The kiss was brief. Tentative. Just a quick pressing of lips, and then Myrin started to withdraw. Lona followed her and they kissed again. Deep and searing and intoxicating. It lasted an eternity. When she finally broke it off, Myrin stayed where she was, eyes closed and swaying just a bit. The datapad dropped from her hand, but Lona was right there to catch it. 

Moments later, she caught Myrin as well, as events finally caught up with the Tholothian Senator and she passed out. Fainting wasn’t a reaction Lona was used to when kissing someone, but she took it as a compliment.

“I told you that you needed rest, you ridiculous woman,” she said, carrying Myrin over to the couch and tucking her under the blanket.

She brushed her long fingers against those so-soft  _ k’pah isi, _ still not quite believing that any of this was happening. The assassin. The file.  _ The kiss. _ Walking over to the overstuffed armchair that also decorated the office, she sagged into it, staring at the datapad in her hands.

The information it contained was galaxy-shattering in its potential, but it could wait a few hours. The Senator deserved a break before the firestorm, and frankly, so did she. At least somehow, in the middle of it all, she and Myrin had finally taken the next step. Whatever came next, they’d face it together. As always.

**Author's Note:**

> _obih_ basically means "sweetheart."


End file.
